Free
by Just.A.Girl-Just.A.Boy
Summary: This girl twirling beside him with feathers in her hair and her heart so very open and so very wide—allowed him to feel free. Set when our Prince Francis and Princess Mary are at the ripe age of six and are discovering both each other and themselves.


_This girl twirling beside him with feathers in her hair and her heart so very open and so very wide—__allowed him to feel free._ Set when our Prince Francis and Princess Mary are at the ripe age of six and are discovering both each other and themselves.

Free

She was the girl who always had a ring of mud around the bottom of her skirt, and the girl who would much rather kick a ball than spend her days doing needlepoint. She was the girl with the straight, skinny legs with matching knobby knees who always made him run. And even if he did have the longer pair, and even if he was always the one ahead (a fact that frustrated her to no end), Francis was the one always chasing after her, Mary. He chased her into the woods, into lakes and into creeks, into abandoned attics, and into freshly made beds (that were always perfect for pillow fights). With each run, with each chase, she forced him to live outside not only the castle, but just for a mere hour, out of the predestined life his mother and father had already concocted for him.

Even at the age of six, she made him think. Mary, with her too big brown eyes curtained by waves of brown, asked him questions. Questions that he never seemed to have the answer to. She made him stutter and stammer with her sharp tongue, and he could respond with rosy cheeks and a scowl. But when he was alone, he would ponder at her words. Even at the age of six, Francis knew that Mary already had the mind of a ruler.

It did not take long at all to care for the girl with legs that were never quite long enough to outrun him and opinions that left him speechless. It didn't take him long at all to start knocking at her door, asking her to go exploring. It didn't take him long at all to start asking her questions, to hear he thoughts, her answers, because she had and always will be the smartest person he has known.

And while parts of her have faded away in his memory: the exact color of her eyes, which of her teeth were missing, her favorite sweets—one shared moment of theirs will stick with him forever.

"C'mon Francis, hurry up!" Mary shouted over her shoulder as she began to charge up the stairs.

"We should have been down at our Latin lesson fifteen minutes ago, Mary,"

"Well it is far too late to rectify the situation, now, isn't it?" Mary said smugly, and slowing her pace, she whispered in his ears, "besides, you couldn't catch up with me even if you wanted to—Francis _is_ a girls name"

Francis let out a long, annoyed sigh. His family portrait had just come out a week ago. Now, just because he was sitting down and his sister was standing up—all of France believed him to be a stunted and sickly little prince. Completely forgetting about his missed tutor and the unavoidable scolding he would receive from his father later that afternoon, he allowed his feet to take him as fast as they could go.

He hit the feather bed with a soft thunk and was shortly followed after Mary.

"Well, whose the girl now?"

"Still you, and anyone who sees that portrait of you will agree with me," Mary said with her hands placed on her hips. She then proceeded to start climbing on top of the bed and he followed suit. She then took one of the gigantic, plush pillows leaning on the frame that were the same size as them and hit him. Several feather falling out as a result.

Francis stared at Mary in confusion, looking back and forth—from the pillow in her hand to her.

"Oh, you cannot tell me you have not heard of a pillow fight Francis!" but by the look of confusion in his eyes, Mary had already received her answer.

"Here, now you hit me back—trust me it's fun, and I know that you've been wanting to ever since I called your name girly," she said with a smirk.

Francis cautiously picked up the pillow. He could remember his mother's exact words when they had received the shipment—gushing to him about how expensive and tedious it was to get them brought all of the way from Portugal. But all of a sudden another round of feathers filled the air as Mary swung again, but this time more forcefully.

Francis quickly picked up the pillow next to him and hit her back causing her to stumble. He frowned at the girl with concern on his face; however, seconds later, giggles erupted from his companion and her pillow was swinging once more. Soon enough, the prince too began to smile. The laughs of both children began to fill the air as they created their own sky of feathers. It was then, as his fit of giggles was trailing off, that he saw Mary twirling. The feathers danced above her head, creating a halo above her brown curls. She was an angel. And in that moment the impending scolding from his father, the disappointed looks of his mother, the extra homework he would have to complete for his tutor—all of it didn't matter. This girl twirling beside him with feathers in her hair and her heart so very open and so very wide—

allowed him to feel free.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I hope that you guys enjoyed the story. I wanted to leave my comments at the end of the story, so as not to distract to any eager readers. Just a quick introduction-I'm a lover of Reign (obviously), I ship FrancisxMary primarily, but I am open to all other ships and do not hate on any other pairings. Please feel free to leave me any suggestions or ideas for new stories in the comments. This was my first fic for the Reign fandom, and I hope it wasn't too bad. Have a great week, and I can't wait until the next episode! :)


End file.
